23rd May – 8th June

A daily diary, eh? Not happening, is it?

Another thing that’s not happening is the fifteen hours of writing per week. Let’s run through a few of those pesky excuses, shall we? Having a full-time job. Yep, I’d have to say that’s right up there. Coming home, picking up my boy from nursery, spending time with my wife, making and eating dinner, playing Scrabble online (that last one’s a real killer in the not-writing-novel stakes): all barriers to writing.

If I’m honest – and I’ve committed to be that, have I not? – I find it hard not to have time to myself to think, lie down, do nothing. “Proper fuck all”, as comedian Micky Flanagan puts it. So, when I set foot in the house, it’s not good for my psychological well-being to crack open the laptop and get straight into it.

That’s not to say I’ve done “proper fuck all” on the novel of late. No. I’m still writing chapters independently of the mother ship (i.e. the manuscript that’s still stuck in the PC that in turn is still stuck in PC World’s knackers yard). It’s just that I’ve been dedicating less than my target time each week. Mea culpa. I shall flagellate myself with broccoli.

Once I’ve taken my much-deserved punishment, I’m going to cut myself a bit of slack. Because (let’s repeat it) I’m still writing. And that wasn’t the case a month ago.

Two pieces of news. Firstly, my wonderful wife has bought me a Mac Book Pro. What a woman. Materialistic? Moi? Apparently, I can now edit movies and make my own mash-ups. But, of course, its primary function is as word processor. Secondly, I’m going to be coached by my careers consultant. Every four weeks we’ll meet, review what I’ve achieved (and what I haven’t) in the previous weeks and make a plan for the next month.

It’s going to be a team effort, this.